


Through the Flames, A Soothing Touch

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [177]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avenger Reader (Marvel), Avengers Tower, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fever, Fluff, Good Loki (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Sickfic, Stark Tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: When a poorly-timed illness keeps you from joining the team on a mission, you find comfort in an unexpected place.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [177]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 11
Kudos: 164





	Through the Flames, A Soothing Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a COVID fic! I will NEVER write a lullaby (or even a regular story) that gives a character COVID. (I did write a lullaby a while back where the reader’s mother dies during COVID times, but not necessarily of COVID, but that’s the closest I will ever get.) This story takes place in a COVID-free parallel universe.

This wasn’t your first mission, not by a long shot, but you still felt like the team rookie. You hadn’t been trained since birth. You hadn’t been enhanced by science and technology. You weren’t a genius or an inventor or anything else. It was only natural for you to feel like you had something to prove to the others, and you used that as motivation to work harder and fight harder. 

But maybe you went a little too hard one afternoon, and of course Captain Fucking America had to be there to witness it. It wasn’t a big deal: you just forgot to take a breather, so you got a little dizzy. You weren’t going to faint or anything—your legs just got a little unsteady and it took you a minute to find your footing. And, in that minute, Steve Rogers saw you and reached out to keep you on your feet, and then he gave you that disapproving look and told you to take it easy. 

The next morning, you’d been all packed and ready to go. You’d even made it to the briefing early. But then Thor had to open his big mouth and ask if you were well, because you looked exhausted. Of course you assured him that you were fine, but the damage had already been done. Before you could say anything else, Steve was shaking his head and telling the entire room that you’d nearly passed out in the gym yesterday (a blatant lie) and then he’d had the nerve to dismiss you. 

“Take care of yourself,” he’d said, those big blue eyes full of concern and worry. “You’re no good to anyone if you’re sick. There’ll always be another mission, but you’re irreplaceable. Stay here until you’re well again.”

He was clever, that one. He said all the right things to make it impossible for you to argue with him there in front of everybody. You couldn’t call him out or tell him he was wrong or swear that you felt fine, because all those sets of eyes were on you. They’d all heard the way he’d spoken to you. If you protested, you were going to look like a little kid. 

So you’d set your jaw and sat back in your seat without a word. Maybe you weren’t going to be able to go out with everyone, but unless he was going to pick you up and carry you out of here, you weren’t leaving the briefing. Was it childish? Oh, absolutely. But it was hard to resist. 

He let you stay. He didn’t look at you again as he went over the outline of the mission. Heat coursed through your veins. Anger. Embarrassment. It stung a little, having to listen to the extra work that the others were going to have to shoulder in your absence, but they didn’t look upset. If anything, they seemed sympathetic. Every once in a while, you’d feel someone’s eyes on you and look up, only to see them giving you a soft smile. When the briefing was over, they all stood up, ready to go, and only you remained seated there at the table. Steve walked over behind you and put a large, comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not easy. When you’re feeling better, let’s have a couple of training sessions. One-on-one. Okay?”

You both knew that he was, essentially, offering to absolutely beat your un-enhanced ass in the gym, but...it helped. You felt the corner of your mouth curl into something like a smile. Sparring with Captain America was always painful, but it gave you the opportunity to figure out how best to engage with someone whose strength greatly outmatched yours. You nodded, and he tightened his fingers around your shoulder.

By the time the rest of the team boarded the jet and flew off to work, you were beginning to feel like maybe Steve had been right. Not that you’d ever tell him so. But there had been a pressure behind your eyes all week and, now that you didn’t have anything to distract yourself from it, it felt like it was growing. Your whole body ached, and a bone-deep fatigue was setting in. And was it always this _cold_ in the Tower? You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your hands and made your way into the kitchen. All you really wanted to do was go to bed, but maybe tea could help a little. 

The Tower was eerily silent, you realized as you stood there waiting for the water to boil. In all the time you’d been here, had there ever been this big a mission? Normally, there was always somebody somewhere around here, filling the space with the cheerful noise of existence. But all you could hear was yourself. Once again, you cursed your immune system for failing you at a time like this.

“You’re still here.” 

The voice came from behind you and, as familiar as it was, it still made you flinch and cry out. It was Loki, obviously, but how had he come up behind you so silently? With burning cheeks, you refused to turn around to look at him. Probably he’d just be smirking at you, pleased at having startled you so badly.

“Yeah, Steve benched me. Said I was too sick and useless to be any help out there this time.” He may have mollified you a little with that offer of training, but that didn’t mean you were _happy_ to be left behind. “Did you want tea? I’ll be done here in a minute, sorry.”

“You’re unwell?” His voice sounded so odd. Normally, Loki spoke with a tone that fell somewhere along the spectrum of neutral-to-icy. If you didn’t know him any better, you might almost think he sounded concerned right now. If you let your mind run with that for a few minutes, let yourself imagine what it’d be like to have someone like Loki actually worry over your well-being, who was to know?

Loki was perfect. He was, like, the epitome of every single thing you’d ever found attractive in another person. Sharp and angular, with those heavy brows that furrowed almost defensively when he was angry. Elegant. Sarcastic. Misunderstood. Cheekbones you could cut yourself on and hands you fantasized about when you were alone at night. The man had literal magic but he was also a serious threat in physical combat. And he was fucking brilliant. You’d known from the moment you’d first laid eyes on him that you were going to develop a stupid, immature crush on him, and the second he’d opened his mouth to speak to you, you’d been a goner.

“Yeah…” When the kettle was finished, you went through the familiar process of making your cup of tea. If you were maybe just a little bit more woozy, you might have turned around at some point to drink in the sight of him, but there was still enough of You left in your mind that you knew better. You stirred a bit of honey into your tea and put the spoon in the sink to take care of it later. “It’s just a human bug, I think, but I’ll keep my germs out of the common areas if you’re worried. See you later.” 

You allowed yourself just a single look at him, more or less through your lashes as you passed him. His eyes were already on you. Maybe you filed away the look on his face into the back of your mind so you could explore that later. 

When you got to your room, you crawled into bed under the covers and left the tea on your night stand to grow cold and bitter.

*

It was too hot. Everything was too hot. At some point in your nap, you’d kicked off the covers, but you were still burning up. Blearily, you tried to wrestle yourself out of your sweatshirt and, when you finally managed, you tossed it onto the floor. You barely had the chance to breathe a sigh of relief when the shivering started. You whined into the abyss while you ground your forehead against your pillow.

Time stretched elastic around you. Sometimes it felt like you were wide awake for hours at a time, but sometimes you closed your eyes for only a moment and, when you opened them again, the light coming in through your window had changed. Somewhere in your mind, you were screaming at yourself, telling yourself to get up and get some water or a cold compress or even a shower or something, but you didn’t move. It was like you were a prisoner in your own body. Steve appeared before you once, and spoke some nonsense about how he’d been right, before he morphed into a bald eagle and flew out your window.

Or maybe that was a hallucination.

Once, you opened your eyes to see Loki standing next to the bed, right where Steve had been standing. He was looking at you strangely, almost worriedly, and reached out to touch your cheek. You couldn’t remember making any noise, but someone whimpered. He was speaking, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Was that your heart pounding in your ears, or was that another hallucination?

Something cold pressed against your forehead. An ice pack? With fingers? Someone—Loki?—helped you up into a sitting position and pressed something to your lips. Cold water filled your mouth and you drank deeply, greedily, even when your stomach began to protest. Loki was still talking. You heard your name once or twice, but that was about it. He sounded angry.

The next thing you knew, he was sitting in your bed with his back against the headboard, and pulling you in close to him. Your body moved of its own accord, fitting itself against him. He felt so cold. Was he always this cold? Was he sick too? The feeling of him made you shiver, but you made sure to keep a tight grip on him so you could share some of your excess body heat with him. He wrapped his arm around your back and pressed your head down against his shoulder. Oh, he felt so nice. Except for the cold. That part was worrisome, and made you feel rather guilty for taking such pleasure in this position, but you knew you’d have to leave that to worry about later.

“Why are you so cold?” You were pretty sure you asked the question aloud. You could feel your mouth and lips shaping the words, right? You could hear them in the air between you? “Are you okay?” If tears of worry stung your eyes, that was okay, because you kept them tightly shut.

“You’re too hot,” he said into the top of your head. Most of your brain understood what he meant, but you couldn’t keep yourself from giggling a little. Jesus, this was bad. 

“Not as hot as you are!” _That one_ you’d definitely meant to keep inside your head, but you’d _definitely_ said it out loud. You turned your head a little so you could hide your face against his blessedly-cool throat and begged the universe to let this all be nothing more than a fever dream.

Loki worked his fingers through your hair. You imagined that you heard him laugh.

*

The next time you opened your eyes, you felt like you’d been hit by a truck. If you thought you’d been sore and achy before, well...now your entire body felt like it’d been shaped from pure misery. Your throat hurt. Your eyes were scratchy. The sole and singular bright spot, the only thing you were currently experiencing that didn’t make you long for death, was the gentle, almost ticklish sensation of someone caressing your scalp. For a long time, you lay still and focused on that feeling. It made goosebumps erupt all over your body, but they had nothing to do with the cold. You were pretty sure your hair was sweaty and gross, but they didn’t stop, not even when you gave up holding back your contented sigh.

Loki was in your bed. Loki was practically beneath you there: you were curled around him like a child around her favorite teddy bear. You were lying there on his shoulder, with your forehead pressed just beneath his jaw. You had one arm wrapped around his waist, and his free hand was resting on your wrist. This was cuddling. You were cuddling with Loki. Were you still dreaming? The awful, rational part of your brain was screaming at you to pull away, but you couldn’t do it. He felt so nice…

“You had me worried.” His voice was low enough that you felt it more than you truly heard it. It rumbled through his chest, through his throat, and straight into your ears. “Are you feeling any better now?”

You remembered the last time you’d been awake: the heat, the confusion, the hallucinations. Some Avenger you were. Of course your best defense against whatever disease you’d caught would be the defense that turned you into a delirious mess. Rather than answering his question, you offered one of your own: “What are you doing here?” You could only hope that it didn’t sound accusatory.

He laughed, a quiet thing that made you smile to yourself. You’d always loved his laugh. You were just aware enough to keep from actually speaking that out loud. Thank goodness. 

“I brought you dinner last night. But you didn’t open the door, so I came inside. I could tell that something was wrong immediately, and when I touched your face, you were burning up. I couldn’t remember exactly when a Midgardian brain would begin to overheat, so...just to be safe, I...stayed here to keep you cool. I hope that’s alright. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

That last part, he delivered quietly, almost under his breath. Loki of Asgard, admitting that he hadn’t known something? That felt momentous. Rather than commenting on that, though, you held your tongue. If you turned it into a joke, maybe he would close himself off again. Or worse: Maybe he’d get up and leave. 

“Of course that’s alright,” you finally said. Quite possibly, that was the understatement of the year. “Thank you for worrying about my brain. I need that.”

He responded only with a quiet hum that somehow sounded both fond and amused. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long time. If you were feeling any better, you might have been just horrified at how comfortable you felt, or you might have taken more time to obsess over how uncomfortable Loki must have been feeling. For now, though, you allowed yourself to trust that, if he was uncomfortable enough, there was nothing stopping him from getting up and leaving you now that your body was no longer trying to cook itself and he didn’t have to worry any more. This was strange. Even with your silly crush, you had never once allowed yourself to daydream about what it might feel like to _cuddle_ with _Loki_. He felt incredible. Rather than berating yourself for taking such pleasure in this, you just let yourself do it. Maybe you even spent some time desperately trying to catalog the feeling so you could come back to this memory on your worst nights. But that also felt a little scummy: drinking in the pleasure of this when he’d really only started doing it to keep you safe?

To distract yourself from your warring thoughts, you swallowed with a bit of difficulty and cleared your throat. It still hurt. “So—uh. You’ve been here all night? Did you get to sleep at all?” He’d spent all this time looking after you, apparently, so it was only right for you to ask after him.

“I dozed, here and there.” His voice sounded almost guarded somehow, but he did give another quiet laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk in your sleep?”

You fought the urge to press your face even more firmly against his throat. You could only imagine the kind of garbage that your brain had come up with last night. Caught up in a fever. Curled this close around the man you’d been lusting over from the first day you’d met. How could you even begin to apologize to him for that? “I’m so sorry…” It was weak, but it was a start.

He laughed even louder now, something approaching a belly laugh, and tightened his arm around you. If you weren’t mistaken, you were pretty sure that you felt him shift so he could press a kiss to your forehead. Dizzily, you took about half-a-dozen mental snapshots of this very moment so you’d never forget. 

“Don’t apologize, mortal, it was hopelessly charming. And when you’re well again, I’d rather like to see if what you said was true.” 

It sound have been mortifying, but instead, something like hope swelled within you.

His fingers kept moving through your hair, even when you relaxed into him more fully and slipped back to sleep.


End file.
